A Loss of Authority
by Yilantri
Summary: (...OK, it's not on hiatus, then. My bad. --;) Two rather hysterical employees of the Department of Story Control fix the obvious errors of OotP, with hilarious results. Filler chapter from Moo up, chapter six...errr, seven coming soon!
1. An Unpleasant Surprise

AN: Allo all, this story is cowritten with my cohort Moo. So, you can blame her too if you don't like it. 

            We are sufficiently outraged by the awful and tragic occurrences in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix…and are also rather in states of shock, denial, and angsty woe. Not to mention utter horror. The tragic demise of out beloved Padfoot otherwise known as Sirius Black has struck chords of anguish, grief, pain, and ultimate depression in our hearts. Therefore, we have taken it upon ourselves to right this horrible act, and give Harry the punishment that he deserves for killing off his godfather, as we feel he is truly the one responsible. If the idiot had only taken the time to think to open the present Sirius so generously gave to him, even if he did not intend to use, Sirius perhaps would not have met such an appalling and unfortunate fate. Also, the authors have decided to bring a few unpunished villains to justice, and generally set things to rights in the wizarding world. With help from our favorite characters, of course. To accomplish this feat, we have had to bring our allies, Asha  and Minuet  in to do the job for us, to make sure all goes as planned. Simply controlling things as supernatural omniscient beings would be too conspicuous. We could, of course, have Harry drop dead on the spot of unknown causes. However, we feel that this would be somewhat too much of an easy sentence, and we want him to suffer maximum pain. After all, he does not have, ever had, and never will have any personality of any type, no matter what J.K. Rowling does, and so he must be done away with. 

Note: Death to the word 'phoenix'!!!! 

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except an overactive imagination, thirty-nine dollars, and a mission. Otherwise we wouldn't need to do this—we could just roll over said characters with some expensive Weapon of Mass Distraction. However, sadly, security's just too high get it on the plane to Britain, so we'll have to operate from our humble American home. 

Another disclaimer: We actually like J.K. Rowling, hard as it is to believe judging by this story. However, we are just really woeful and pissed about the death of our dear Padfoot. After lots of moping around and sob-fests, we could take it no longer and had to act, venting out our severe anger and unbearable sorrow. 

No actual characters were harmed in the making of this fanfiction. 

We shall now proceed to the torturous story itself.

In a moment….

Space! The final frontier!

OK, NOW we'll commence. 

            Minuet ducked as her hyperactive owl came zooming through her office window at the Department of Story Control, American Ministry of Magic. The overexcited bird was flying around, occasionally crashing into a wall or a cabinet. "Calm down, you stupid thing," she said, exasperated. As it zoomed by, she caught it by the tail feather. "Gotcha! What's this?" She grabbed the letter and studied it. Strangely enough, it had the seal of the Order of the Phoenix, even though it had been shut down for years…the American branch hadn't been involved in a lot of their doings, anyway…

            She opened it, curious. It read, 

_Dear Minuet, _

_We here at the Order of the Phoenix (because the Ministry of Magic here are a bunch of stuck-up prats who wouldn't inform you, even if they did pay attention to things that are actually important) regret to inform you of the passing of your sixth cousin once removed, Sirius Black. _

_Minuet, sorry about this.__ It really, really stinks. The stupid Ministry of Magic here still thinks he's a criminal. A criminal! It's the stupidest thing. But then again, they didn't even believe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returned. I don't know if you'd been informed of that, either. Sorry you've been being ignored. I sent a letter to Asha, too. I don't know what your department is, Aurors or whatever, but I thought you should know. Isn't your department part of your Department of Mysteries? Well, it's got to be better than ours…_

_I don't know, I just thought someone should tell you what's been going on. _

_N. Tonks_

Minuet stared at the letter in disbelief. "No way," she whispered. "She didn't. No freaking way…ooh, she's going to get it now…"

--

Asha looked up from the memo she was typing to everyone. 

_Everyone, _

_The new volume of the 'story' is going to be published  in the Outside world. I just thought you might like to know. We'll be getting a copy soon from our current Author of Control, J.K. Rowling. _

_Thanks, _

_Asha__ & Minuet _

An owl was swooping in her window, closely followed by another, which she recognized as Minuet's. Minuet's owl was practically assaulting her, something Minuet had trained it to do. "Stop it!" She shooed the owls away. She looked at the first letter. _Hm__?__ she thought. __I haven't heard from Tonks in a while. And that's the Phoenix seal, isn't it? Strange…she opened it. It said, _

_Dear Asha, _

_We here at the Order of the Phoenix (because the Ministry of Magic here are a bunch of stuck-up prats who wouldn't inform you, even if they did pay attention to things that are actually important) regret to inform you of the passing of Sirius Black. _

_Enough with the formalities.__ Personally, I can't believe I'm the only one who's thought to inform you people about this. I'm sorry you haven't been updated in a while, I've been busy—what with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return, and all. you probably haven't even heard about that yet, though. Stupid Ministry idiots. Actually, I'd call them something else, but then again I like to watch my language. _

_Sorry about Sirius, I know you guys knew each other or something...it almost seems like it wasn't supposed to happen…I know that's stupid, why would it, but I don't know. Things have been weird lately. At any rate, I sent a letter to Minuet, also. I thought you guys should know. God. This is so stupid! Augh, well, before I go off in my rant about the Ministry I'll stop here. _

_N. Tonks_

Asha looked at the letter. At first it didn't really sink in, but then…Minuet's owl started pecking her on the head. She ignored it. "Sirius?" she said disbelievingly. "But she wouldn't—she didn't…oh, shit. ROWLING!!!!" She swept the letter off her desk, along with all of the past week's work, but that was irrelevant. Minuet's owl landed promptly in the space she had cleared. Asha grabbed the letter and opened it. It was short and to the point. 

_Asha__-_

_Rowling__ must die. We have to do something, fast. Like, maybe fire her? I don't know. In case Tonks' letter didn't get to you, meet me on the third floor. _

_Minuet_

Asha scribbled on the back of it. 

_I know. She must have published it early. I'll meet you there. _

_Asha___

_P.S. How could she? I thought she was responsible!! I thought after her punishment for killing Cedric w/ out our consent was bad enough! She's such a…um, lady. That's it. _

Asha stormed off, leaving Minuet's owl (who, by the way, was named G Major, or Major for short) to find a way to attach the note to his own leg. 

--

Asha arrived early. When Minuet walked in, looking about ready to strangle anyone who told her J.K. Rowling was an excellent author, Asha was sitting at the table, staring at it and fuming. She looked up. "Minuet. She has to pay. She _will pay. I mean, something like this? Without approval from the Department? When she was appointed Author she agreed in the contract to let us review her plotline. She _signed a contract!" __

Minuet sat down across from her, looking disgusted. "I tried to reach her," she said grimly. "I got the answering machine." She changed the pitch of her voice, making it much higher . "Hello, you have reached J.K.Rowling. If you if are calling to congratulate me on my extraordinary success with my best-selling book series, please leave a message after the tone. Otherwise, you have the wrong number." 

Asha smiled wryly. "I can deal with that. _Accio__ cell phone!" A cell phone came flying through the door, leaving behind a small hole, and inserted itself into Asha's open hand. She dialed. The answering machine played, and then…_

"Beep!" 

"Rowling," Asha said in a dangerously soft voice, "this is Asha from the Department of Story Control, Department of Mysteries, American Ministry of Magic. Word has reached us that you published the fifth book in your series without authorization. You know full well what there is in this world to hurt you, so I would suggest that you pick up the damn phone, and get down here. Now. Otherwise, there will be consequences, not that there aren't already." 

Minuet took the phone. "And," she added sweetly, "remember that we have the authority to remove you from your position." 

They hung up. 

Almost immediately the phone rang. She pushed the speakerphone button. "Hello," Asha answered in a fake-pleasant voice. "You've reached Asha." 

"Hello," said a male voice with a British accent. It sounded kind of nasal, rather whiny, really. "This is Bruce Amstrop, and I am currently employed as the agent of a Ms. J.K. Rowling. It would appear that you are attempting to harass my client, and making futile attempts to contact her. Ms. Rowling is not taking any calls at this time."

"Listen, Mr. Amsterdam, or whoever the hell you are, I personally don't care what _Ms. Rowling—_" Minuet said the name sarcastically—"wants. I need to talk to her, and I need to talk to her _now." _

"I'm sorry, but as I have told you before, Ms. Rowling is not taking any calls at this time," said the agent patiently. 

Asha took the phone, and said nicely, "Listen. Bruce. You sound like a reasonable guy, so I'm going to be frank with you. We need to talk to Ms. Rowling because she breached security code number 003, and also has broken the laws according to my department, which she bound herself to by signing a contract." 

"Now look here," said Bruce indignantly, "I oversee all the contracts my client signs and she has seen no such contract!" 

"Well," replied Asha, "not that she's told you about. Listen. I need to speak to Ms. Rowling, and if she won't speak with us, give her this message: She has been fired, and must report to the DOSC immediately, if she wishes to retain her wand, so to speak. And if she asks why, tell her it's in the contract. And if she asks how, say it's because of S.B." 

"OK," said Bruce, skeptic. "I'll tell her that, and also that two loonies called in." He hung up. 

They looked at each other, and said in unison, "Muggles." 

Just then, their assistant Sylph came in, holding a large novel. "Hello," she said pleasantly. "We just received a copy of the new volume. Hey," she added, "you two look awfully upset. What happened, did Pasquale disrupt the Floo network again? I thought that was behind us, the Department of Transportation are taking care of that, I thought." 

Asha sighed. "JKR violated her contract." 

"She's gone cheeky on us," added Minuet quite seriously. 

"How so?" 

"Well, for one thing, that book is already published," replied Minuet.  "And now we have to fix her errors. And we have to take away her Authority." 

"You mean, kill off the main character?" Sylph said, startled. "Pity. I was starting to like him, although he was devoid of personality. England won't be pleased to lose its little prophecy. And the head of their main school, Hogwarts…Albus something…he'll be pissed at us beyond belief. But I suppose it's just as well…I mean, it just didn't seem right to me. Sirius shouldn't have gotten killed." 

"Exactly," said Asha grimly. "And don't say anymore, we haven't read it yet." 

"Right," said Sylph, handing over the book. "Hey—d'you mind if I ask a question?" 

"Nope. You just did," replied Asha. 

"Well—do you have any contact with the people actually in the story? Who are being controlled by it? You know, in Europe?" 

"Yep. How do you think we found out?" 

"Oh. See ya!" Sylph made her exit. 

Minuet sighed. "We have to read it now, and then fix the problem…" 

"I still can't believe about Sirius…" muttered Asha. "That _cow…_" 

"You seem to have picked up some English phrases from the previous books," said Minuet, arching an eyebrow. 

Asha nodded. "That, and I stayed in England for a couple years, remember? So did you. With the Order? Don't you remember that?" 

"How could I forget," said Minuet, shuddering. "They have worse villains over there than anything in America…"

"You're telling me," agreed Asha. "That Voldemort guy is horrible." 

"OK, shall we do the absorbing spell again, then?" Minuet asked. "Actually reading the book would be good. Then we know what else to fix, and what we're dealing with." 

"Yeah. Right you are. OK...me first." She pulled out her wand. "_Condensia__!"_

She was silent. 

"Oh," she said finally. Pause. Then, "Shit. This is going to be harder than I thought. She's introduced a stinking prophecy, in hopes of retaining her Authorship. And, that makes it that much harder to get rid of Harry, her little star pupil. We'll have to do a major rewrite to invalidate the prophecy, and…" 

"Shut up, I haven't read it yet," said Minuet matter-of-factly. She extracted her wand from her pocket. "_Condensia__!"_

(AN: If only Hermione knew about that spell…)

She paused. "I see the situation, and no solution has made itself apparent. There's some seriously evil characters that need to be eradicated, but how? And there's the big problem of having to _dispose_ of Harry…plus get Sirius back…how do we change the story?"  
Asha thought for a moment. Then her eyes lit up, and she grinned evilly. "I've got it," she said. "Now listen: We have to go to England for this to work. It'll be hard, but I think it'll work." 

"What'll work?" asked Minuet despairingly. 

"We have to get into Rowling's world…the Outside…and get to her computer. It's the master computer. We can only shut it down for three days from here, and then Rowling can undo everything we did, so that's no good. We of course have to work around her original manuscript. However, if we can get into the Outside, if we can get her away from the computer and write our plans, then they'll happen. Then we save all of it, then Harry's gone, and Rowling is out of a job. Then we can appoint a new Author and things can go on as usual." 

Minuet laughed. "Well, no one said the Department of Story Control was easy to work in." 

"No sirree," replied Asha. Then Minuet blanched. "What is it?" Asha asked, concerned. 

"Well, we'll have to keep saving as we write," said Minuet, "so it doesn't get deleted. But then all we've done every time we save will happen, and the rest won't have yet, so England will be in total turmoil…" 

Asha shrugged. "Well," she said brightly, "you win some, you lose some, right?" 

With two loud cracks, the two witches were gone. 


	2. A Level Personality

AN: Here we go again…note: Remus Lupin is, ah, er, very QUIET in this chapter, if you'll notice the adverbs being used the most often. Hey—it's the cliché angst. The quieter, the better. Makes them look that much more depressed.

Disclaimer: If you honestly think, even for one second, even for the smallest amount of time, that we own even the teensiest fraction of the Harry Potter series, you are sadly and most appallingly mistaken and belong in a mental institution. St Mungo's that way àà

Note: Death to evil Microsoft Word! 

Now, commencing once again…

Chapter Two: A Level Personality __

At the new Order of the Phoenix headquarters (located at 56 Laudebor Blvd., out in an abandoned house in the outskirts of London—rather near the cardboard dwelling of a sadly deranged hobo named Bartholomew S. Petersen), Lupin, Tonks and Moody sat at a rickety kitchen table, discussing the latest set-back to their plan to rid the world of Voldemort. 

"I still find it hard to believe that Sirius would let himself get killed by someone like Bellatrix." Tonks said flatly.

"Give him a break," Moody retorted. "He can't help it that he got killed."

"I realize that, but, I mean, Bellatrix. Of all people, Bellatrix, his own cousin." Tonks replied.

"What you're not realizing is that Bellatrix isn't exactly the least powerful of the Death Eaters," growled Moody. "It was hell getting her in Azkaban and it'll be hell doing away with her. Trust me, I should know…"

"The purpose of this meeting isn't to discuss whether or not Sirius was right in dying," said Lupin quietly. "We're here to discuss our next move, and how to prevent things like that from happening." 

Tonks watched him for a second, and then turned back to her conversation with Moody, but not before muttering, "And how we're supposed to do that is anyone's guess." 

Three loud cracks echoed throughout the empty house and Arthur, Molly and Bill Weasley pulled up chairs at the table.

"What were we discussing?" asked Bill.

"Yes, don't let us interrupt." Molly agreed. 

"Carry on," said Arthur amiably. 

But before his order could be carried out, they were again interrupted by a loud crack, which announced the arrival of Kingsley Shacklebolt. 

"Well, how are all of you doing?" he asked nonchalantly. "I'm assuming you all still have jobs, unlike me, eh?" 

Moody nodded. "And that's what we were just discussing." 

Tonks rolled her eyes, scrunched up her face, changed her hair blue and said, "God, can't we stop _discussing? _I mean, if we aren't going to get out there and actually _do something, which we __should be doing, then can't we at least just _talk?"__

She was met by silence. 

She shrugged. "I thought not." 

There was a long, awkward pause. Finally, Arthur Weasley spoke. "So, have we made any plans?" 

"No," replied Kingsley Shacklebolt. "If they had, Moody would have us out the door carrying it out already. Fast. With precision." He winked at Moody, who muttered a curse under his breath. 

"Has anyone heard from Dumbledore yet?" ventured Bill, hesitant. 

Tonks shook her head. "Nope. He's been busy. I think he may be trying to find out You-Know-Who's current location, or something." 

Moody sighed, looking at her. "Damn it, Tonks, why can't you just say Voldemort?" Everyone except Lupin flinched at the name. He continued. "It's stupid. It's a name. It's not going to jump out and bite you." 

Lupin nodded. 

Tonks slunk down in her chair. "Well excuse me…at least I did someth—" She jumped. Two more loud cracking sounds attacked their eardrums as Asha and Minuet Apparated gracefully onto the table. 

Minuet frowned. "You moved it," she said accusingly, looking at Tonks. "The table didn't _use _to be here." 

Tonks looked apologetic. "Sorry. There was actually a hidden trapdoor under where we used to have it, as we found out the hard way." 

Minuet looked sideways at the three Weasleys. "Hmm. Red hair…freckles…you must be Weasleys. How do you do?" 

Asha mouthed "Quoter" at Minuet. Minuet shook her head and mouthed back, "Not quite." 

Moody cleared his throat. "What brings you here?" he asked, a tone of suspicion in his voice. "Or more importantly: how did you find it? This is protected by the Fidelius Charm, and other things besides…" 

"We'll explain, in private," said Minuet. 

Molly Weasley looked at them curiously. "Who are these people, Arthur?" she asked her husband. "They're certainly not people I know." 

"Oh, excuse me for not introducing us properly," said Asha. "Asha, Department of Mysteries, American Ministry of Magic. This is my coworker, Minuet. We're on urgent business, but it's a bit secret. Could you three excuse us for a while?" She smiled apologetically. "We're sorry. It's just regulations, etc." 

Bewildered, Arthur looked at Lupin. "Should we…" 

Lupin nodded again. The three Weasleys found themselves outside the door. 

"Well," said Molly finally, "I never thought there'd be a time when I'd want Fred and George's Extendable Ears." 

"They're probably selling 'em at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Mum," said Bill. 

"It seems strange, to be talking about something not involved with…well, you know. The situation," said Molly softly. 

"Yes, but we all have to live normal lives, despite the current climate," replied Arthur. "Now, as we can't do much here, shall we head off?" 

"Yes." 

They Disapparated. 

--

"So," Minuet asked after the Weasleys had departed, "where's the rest of the Order?" 

"They're still sorting things out in their various departments/domains/dwellings," said Kingsley. "You know, I had a heck of a time explaining to everyone in my department that Sirius…well, you know, and they had a fit. All they could think about was 'I can't believe he didn't get back to the dementors! This is an embarrassment to the Ministry!'" He laughed, somewhat bitterly. "Even though the Ministry's accepted that You-Know-Who's back now, it's still…it's just not even worth going there anymore, except to prevent blowing my cover about the Order. To be honest, I can't stand the place anymore…" 

"Oh, for God's sake," Asha burst out, "say Voldemort, will you? I mean, it's so…unclear who you're talking about, with all this 'You-Know-Who' and 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'. You could be talking about _anyone." _

Everyone stared at her. Tonks finally burst out laughing. Moody, Lupin, and Shacklebolt gave her strange looks. "It's just—you'd seriously think…" she gasped out. "that there was…someone else? Oh, God. You are pathetic. But what, what I would do to get into the…Outside? Is that what you call it, Outside? I mean, somewhere where You-Know-Who could mean someone other than—"

"Voldemort," growled Moody. "Damn it, it's Voldemort!" 

"Yeah," said Tonks hastily. "Yeah, him." 

"_Anyway,_" said Minuet pointedly. "we have a serious problem." 

"What, other than the fact that our entire lives are part of a story, controlled by some person we don't even know?" Tonks said cynically. They ignored her. 

"OK, what's the deal," asked Kingsley. 

"There's been a major breach of security codes 003 and 075, by our current Author Joanne Kathleen Rowling," said Asha. Her voice was calm, but tinted with anger. 

"Which means…?" asked Moody. 

'The Author published without giving it to us for Authorization, that's 003. And then she committed a lot of minor offenses because of that, however, the most major of those is 075." 

"What's 075?" asked Lupin. 

"Angst level over 20.5, both for readers and characters alike," said Minuet. "You'll relate to this, Remus." 

"Why?" asked Lupin reasonably. 

Before she could answer, Moody cursed loudly. 

"What provoked that?" asked Kingsley, slightly amused. 

"These people have too much control over us," he muttered. "And it's not right, that our lives should be…_entertainment. _Personally, I don't like that people are reading whatever I say right now. I don't like it at all." 

"Actually, that's not true," Asha pointed out. "When the Author isn't writing, the characters go on about their lives uncontrolled, like now. And unwatched." 

"And about 075," added Minuet, "it's relevant because every character has an angst level associated with them, according to their relationships with other characters, and their popularity among the readers…" 

"And…and Sirius—Sirius's level was…?" asked Lupin quietly, seeing where this was going. 

"36.7," said Asha triumphantly. "16.2 over the limit, which means that Rowling is breaking a rule in killing him off." 

Lupin flinched. "I see," he said calmly, "And what does this mean to us _characters?_" He put a strange emphasis on the last word, like he was implying inferiority. 

"It means," finished Minuet, "that we have to fix the problem. Among many others." 

Moody stood up. "Wait a minute," he said, fixing his magical eye on Asha. "You're not saying…" 

"Yes, we're going to play God," said Asha. "Be expecting an appearance sometime soon." 

"But to do all this, which would be all fine and dandy, we need to get into the Outside, and we need your help in order to do that." said Minuet.

Tonks was looking extremely pleased. "Sure! You mean we actually get to do something?" She stood up, promptly knocking over the table. "Great! Um…oh, sorry." She pulled the table off a rather miffed Lupin. "Sorry about that." 

"There's no guarantee we can get to Rowling's computer," warned Asha, "but we have to try." 

"I'm in," said Tonks instantly. 

"Wait, there's one more thing you may not be so happy with," said Minuet, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "Asha, remember…removing Authority involves taking down the center of the Author's plot."

"And what would this be?" asked Lupin. 

"Well, traditionally, it means we have to kill the person who was Rowling's main character." 

"And this is…?" said Moody. He sounded suspicious. 

Minuet and Asha exchanged looks, and then said in unison, "Harry Potter."

"WHAT?!" roared Moody. 

"No way," said Tonks. "Dumbledore'd go mad. He'd freak." 

"There's no way around it," insisted Asha. 

Kingsley said, "You can't do that…" 

"What about the prophecy?" added Lupin quietly. 

"Well, that's another one of our problems we'll have to work around," said Minuet, sighing. 

"We can invalidate it with some plot twist," said Asha, "but it'll be hard. And several other people will have to meet their demise also." 

"Like who?" asked Tonks eagerly, although she was still slightly in shock.  

"People who violate security codes number 076 and 078, which are the annoyance or evility level." Minuet replied.

"For instance," Asha said, "Dolores Jane Umbridge for evil level 49, since only the main villain is allowed any level over 30.6. And," she glanced at the door as though checking for any prying ears belonging to members of the Weasley family. "Percy Weasley for, basically, being a prat."

"You should see his annoyance level to the readers," added Minuet. "Ouch." 

"And how high is he above the limit," asked Kingsley, looking like he was getting a bit of a headache from all the numbers. 

"About 15.7 over the limit, which is, sadly, 75.2." 

Tonks whistled. "He must be a real prat then." 

"You never met him," said Moody, a pained look on his face. 

Lupin shook his head. "I don't know what I think of this," he said softly. "This control. People being eradicated because of their personality. It's…wrong." 

"It's not our fault, we didn't make the rules, we just abide by them," said Minuet. "It's Rowling you should be blaming, she broke the rules." 

"But Rowling didn't create the book/real world system, though," pointed out Lupin. "And that's what I have a problem with. Why do we need to have the books anyway, that's my question." 

"I think it was originally a funding thing," said Minuet, shrugging, "pathetic as that may sound." 

"_Funding?" _Tonks exclaimed. "They need _funding?! _OK, if that's not the lamest thing I've ever heard…" 

Moody was outraged, but Kingsley looked thoughtful. "Hmm…it doesn't sound like this is a necessary thing anymore. Could you two possibly shut down the system? Alastor, stop it." He was restraining Moody from flying into a rage and killing something…or someone. Moody always did have a temper. That wasn't Rowling's fault though, as he had existed before the book connection was made. Characters such as Umbridge or the Weasleys were created by the Author for the story, but others were simply used as part of the plot. The Author was magically guided to keep them in character. 

"It's possible," said Asha thoughtfully. "We'll look into it. But first we have to get to the Outside, and her computer. For that, we need your cooperation. All of yours. Who's for it?" 

"I am," said Tonks instantly

"Me, also," said Kingsley. "I don't really like Rowling's new plot very much." 

Moody nodded. "I'm with you. Just try to get rid of the book connection." 

Lupin hesitated, then said reluctantly, "I will assist you in any way I can. However, I don't like this situation, and I'm not helping you kill Harry, or anyone else for that matter. I am getting sick of being a character for you to watch." 

"OK then," said Asha after an awkward silence. "Let's get cracking." 

With six loud cracks, they Disapparated. 

--

Five minutes later, the three Weasleys returned to the room, and were astonished to find it empty. 

"Where'd they go?" said Molly, bewildered. 

"I can't figure it out," said Arthur, looking perplexed. "They must have Disapparated…" 

"Hey, here's a note," said Bill, picking it up off the table. It read, 

_Various members of the Order of the Phoenix, _

_Moody, Remus, Kingsley, and I have gone out on a short excursion. We'll be back within an hour, probably less. _

_Keep planning. _

_N. Tonks _

Shrugging, the Weasleys sat down at the table, waiting for the rest of the Order. 

--

Moody, Lupin, Kingsley and Tonks found themselves standing in front of a large rock. 

"This is the portal," said Minuet. 

"Looks like a rock to me," said Tonks. 

"Yep," agreed Kingsley. 

Asha gave them both withering looks. "It has to be disguised somehow. It's like a very advanced, securely guarded Portkey. It's specifically keyed so that only Rowling, Minuet, and myself can use it, and then only in the presence of four people from the Order, or my department, so we have to send across for Rowling. That means she can't use it without authorization from us. We don't have to worry about that now, though. All we have to do is go through. If you need to contact us, if something's going really wrong here, go to this rock and write a message on, say, a piece of parchment. It doesn't matter. Put it on the rock and it'll disappear, it'll be on the other site in a bucket, which is the receiving end of the portal."

"A bucket. How ingenious," said Lupin, sounding slightly less depressed than usual, and with the slightest trace of amusement.

Minuet ignored him. "Things are bound to get quite screwed up here, because we have to save our changes periodically. The disappearance of characters like Harry—" Lupin looked slightly sick. "and things like that, that may mess with the changes a bit. We'll get it all sorted out in the end."

"Good luck!" said Tonks cheerily, apparently oblivious to the fact that the Boy Who Lived was about to become the Boy Who Lived And Then Died. She tripped over the grass. "Whoops," she said from her position on the ground. "Well…better luck than me, right?" She grinned. "You get 'em." 

Asha and Minuet exchanged a worried glance, then touched the rock and were thrown through the portal. 

--

And now, a note from our sponsors: 

"Lupid quietly attacked the Moofy." 

(there are no typos in that)   

  


	3. Through the Portal

--

AN: Golly gee, two whole reviews already, after, like, a night…that's very encouraging. We are glad to see some support for our endeavors. To Someone Reading, you've got some good points…we sure hope you're right. ^^ Asha and Minuet appreciate the suggestion. And to the flattened bookworm, we look forward to being worshipped!! It should be interesting! Thanks for reviewing!  

AAN: By the way, speaking quietly means you're depressed. 

Disclaimer: Sadly, we don't own the Harry Potter series. If we did, this wouldn't be necessary, would it? Because Sirius would still be alive, wouldn't he? 

Note: A pox on the evils of physics! 

Chapter Three: Through the Portal

"Ow!" 

Asha found herself sitting in a large wooden bucket, Minuet perched precariously on top of her. 

"This portal could have been set up a bit better, couldn't it?" grumbled Minuet, clambering out. 

"Hey, at least you're not _in this damned thing," said Asha, rolling her eyes. She managed to get out of the bucket and stood up. "OK. Now, where are we again?" _

"I think we're in London," said Minuet, looking around. 

"No kidding," said Asha sarcastically. "Well, we have to get to Scotland."

"Why?"

"Because Rowling moved there with her family," replied Asha. "And that means that's where the computer would be."

"There's another offense," said Minuet, somewhat gleefully. "She's not allowed to move the master computer without our consent."

"It pales in comparison to her other offenses, though ," Asha pointed out. "So let's get going. Can't use magic in this world, so…train, then?"

"OK," said Minuet, looking scandalized. "No magic. Sheesh! How boring it must be here."

"Yep, and you should see what the politics are like," agreed Asha. "Whoo. Glad I don't live in the Outside…" 

"Where's the nearest train station?" asked Minuet. 

"Ironically enough," said Asha, "it's King's Cross." 

"Isn't that…?" 

"Yep." 

"This is _weird,_" commented Minuet. "Very weird." 

"In case you hadn't noticed, things started getting weird when we found out about our department," said Asha. "And that was…what, seven years ago?" 

"Yeah…I _knew _this was gonna be a bad day. How far to King's Cross?" 

"Oh, I don't know…maybe twenty blocks or so?" 

"Great," muttered Minuet. "I thought when I learned how to Apparate I'd be done walking long distances…" 

Sighing, they started off. 

--

About half an hour later, they reached King's Cross. 

"Those were _long _city blocks," said Minuet, annoyed. 

"Oh well, at least we're here." 

"What platform are we looking for, do you know?" 

"Platform 10 goes to Scotland, or so said that person over there. Who happens to work here, so I assumed he was right." 

"OK, let's go." 

They bought their tickets, and then proceeded to Platform 10. Minuet overheard someone saying the train wouldn't arrive for a few minutes, and relayed the information to Asha. Asha shrugged. "We have some time." 

"To do what?" Minuet queried, playing with her hair. 

"I don't know. Sit and be bored, I guess," replied Asha, sitting down on a bench. Minuet stayed standing, though, looking intently at something. "What's got you so enthralled?" 

"Oh, I dunno," she answered. "This just seems so strange…" and then Asha noticed Minuet was looking at the barrier between their platform and platform nine. 

"Ah, I see. Yeah, that is pretty weird," said Asha, nodding. "I mean, it's almost exactly like our world, and yet it's so different." She walked over to the barrier and leaned on it, staring up at the ceiling. "Sort of surreal, you know?" 

Minuet was about to reply, but then a shrill train whistle heralded the arrival of their transportation device. They gave the conductor their tickets and found a compartment, sitting down. They could hear lots of voices in the aisle, which meant that, as Asha pointed out, "This train is completely packed."

"Yeah, we'll probably have to squeeze in someone else in here." Minuet agreed. "Pity." 

As if in answer to her comment, a teenage girl and her friend ducked in the compartment. "Hey, sorry, can we squeeze in here? There's like, no more room." 

"It's perfectly all right," said Asha politely, scooting over to make room. 

"I'm Minuet, and that's Asha," said Minuet brightly. "Who are you?" 

"I'm Sara," said the girl, "and this is Lynn." She pointed to her friend. "We're visiting my awful aunt in Glasgow." 

"It'll be living hell," said Lynn, "but at least…" 

"We brought something to do," finished Sara. She extracted a large blue book from her bag. Lynn did the same. "Do you keep up on the Harry Potter series?" she asked Asha and Minuet. 

Asha and Minuet exchanged looks and immediately started laughing. "Ah…yes," said Asha, after she managed to catch her breath. "That we do." 

Lynn and Sara looked somewhat miffed. "What's so funny?" asked Lynn.

"Private joke," said Minuet, grinning. "It's not important. So, how are you liking the new book?"

"It's too depressing," replied Lynn instantly. "And Harry needs anger management." 

"Amen," said Asha under her breath. To Sara, she asked, "What do you think of it?"

"Well, I've only got one chapter left, and I've been crying for the past…I dunno, but a few chapters. It's so saaaad!" She started to have a sob-fest. "I mean, the author is so meeeean! She can't possibly kill—"

Lynn clapped a hand over Sara's mouth. "Shut up, you twit, I haven't read up to there yet," she said pleasantly. 

"W-w-w-w-w-well, _you _get reading then!" said Sara tearfully. "And so will I!" 

With that, both girls shut themselves into the 'fictional' world of Harry Potter. 

Asha sighed and looked out the window. 

"What's the matter?" inquired Minuet, looking curious. 

"I just—I don't know," replied Asha. "It's just that…I'm worried." 

"About what?" 

"What we're going to do if this doesn't work," said Asha quietly. 

"It'll work. Trust me," said Minuet confidently. "There's no reason why it shouldn't." 

"I guess," said Asha. "But if it doesn't, we've totally crashed the wizarding world…"

"Huh? What?" said Lynn, who was partially listening. "Wizarding world?" 

"It's nothing, Lynn," said Minuet loudly. "It's nothing that concerns you." 

Lynn shrugged and went back to her book. 

"Listen, Minuet," said Asha in a quieter voice, almost whispering. But her voice was now quite angry. "Unlike you, I actually care what happens with the people involved in the story! And if we screw up, it's going to screw them up, a _lot._ And it may not matter to you, but it matters to me!" 

"How could you _say _that?" hissed Minuet. "Of _course _it matters to me! You think you're the only one here who's involved in the storyline? Do you?" 

But their conversation was interrupted by a loud wail from Lynn, who had just read the fateful passage. 

"Oh my GAWD! Noooo! How could she? That _cow!" She started weeping profusely. _

Asha winced. "Ears," she said, grimacing. "Eardrums. Pain. Ow." 

"Yeah," said Minuet, edging away from Lynn. "He's my cousin, and I didn't cry that loud." 

Asha nodded. "And it's not like I was in the best of moods, either, but I didn't make the entire Department go deaf." 

Sara was looking at Lynn with sympathy. "See? I told you it was too sad!" 

"She _definitely _violated code 075," said Minuet under her breath. "Big time." 

--

After a very long and tear-saturated ride, they arrived at Waverly Train Station in Edinburgh, Scotland. Asha and Minuet were relieved to get away from the two weeping Sirius Black fans. 

"I mean, this is _tragedy!_" was the last thing they heard Lynn say. "I mean, the only thing worse would be if they killed off Harry!"

Asha and Minuet exchanged a worried look. 

"Let's make sure _we _don't break the angst code," muttered Asha. 

"Maybe we can get around killing off Harry," said Minuet thoughtfully. "But how?"

"Wait…wait a minute, I have an idea," said Asha slowly. "We don't kill him…we do something Rowling wouldn't have ever done, and that'll take away her Authority just as well." 

"But what would that be?" 

"We give him a personality."

Minuet gasped. "Brilliant!" she said appreciatively. "But that'll be quite hard…I mean, we have _nothing _to work with…" 

"I know, but it's a better alternative than killing him off." 

"Hey, maybe we can destroy the story concept entirely, like Kingsley wanted us to…"

"Yes, I want to do that, but I don't know how yet. Let's fix the errors first, and then worry about that. And we can try to take away Authority without killing off Harry. Just to save Lupin and Dumbledore from more angst then they already have." 

"Plus, Sirius…" 

"Yeah, I forgot," said Asha. "Sirius most of all. He'd throw a fit." 

"And so would Ron and Hermione," reminded Minuet. 

"I don't understand what they see in that boy, but whatever it is, it's an incredible angst factor." 

"Yep. We can't kill him off after all." 

They looked at each other, and then said, in unison, "_Damn!"  _

"It would have been such good vengeance…" said Minuet. 

"I don't know who Rowling thinks she's kidding," added Asha. "I mean, it was so utterly and completely Harry's fault about Sirius…" 

"Well, shall we get to Rowling's place, then?" suggested Minuet. 

"Yep. Let's go. I have the address right here. It's only about 16 blocks away." 

"Oh, what I would give for my broom," groaned Minuet. 

"I feel you," said Asha. "But it's not _that far…"_

"It is when you're used to Apparating." 

"Well, let's carry on then, shall we?"

--

When they finally reached Rowling's house, Minuet was having a complete whine-fest. "I mean, come ON! Why can't we at least Apparate next time? Please?" 

Asha ignored her. "Come on. Let's go have a little chat with the 'Author'." She grinned in anticipation. "This is going to be interesting." 

"You're really into this," observed Minuet. 

"And you ask why?" replied Asha, laughing. "I like this. Rowling deserves it." 

Minuet nodded, then knocked on the door. It was answered by her husband. "Hello?" he said in a pleasant British accent. "Who is it?" 

"My name's Asha, and this is Minuet," said Asha. "It is of utmost importance that we speak to your wife." 

"Just a second," said her husband. "Let me check the list…she made a list, see, of people she'll allow in without an invitation…it's sad, I know, but she gets so many fans, it's necessary. Joanne's been a nervous wreck lately…ever since she published her fifth book…" He was looking through a list. 

"Well, we're not on that list, because we're the reason why," said Minuet. "You see, you may not know this, but your wife holds a very important position in our government, and she has broken the law by publishing that book at this time."

"Broken the law?" said her husband, alarmed. "How so?" 

"It's a bit hard to explain. Why don't you ask Joanne?" said Asha pleasantly. 

"I don't know who you are, but I don't think you should be—" He couldn't finish, as Asha and Minuet couldn't take it anymore. Asha stepped into the hallway. 

"_Rowling," _she said warningly. "Wherever you are, get out here, NOW." 

"It's your employers," Minuet called out. "Come out, come out, wherever you are. Olly olly oxen free!" 

"Now wait just one minute," her husband said angrily, "you have no right to just stomp in here and—"

"I'm sorry, dear," said Minuet, "but that's your problem."

Just then, a woman with brownish-blonde hair appeared at the top of the stairs, looking nervous. "Oh—Asha! What a wonderful surprise!" she exclaimed. "And…and Minuet, too! How splendid!" 

"I rather doubt you're happy to see us, Rowling," said Asha matter-of-factly. "In fact, I'd say you shouldn't be." 

Her husband looked shocked. "Darling, who are these people?" 

"Um…dear? I think…maybe you'd best leave the room. Go…weed the garden, or something, 'kay?" she answered faintly. 

Looking rather pissed, her husband quit the room. 

Ms. Rowling immediately started apologizing when her husband left. "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to publish before showing it to you, I shouldn't have, but I was just so excited, and I'd already extended my deadline, and—"

"Do you have any idea how many codes you broke, what with the characters and events in this volume? You were informed when you took on this position that if you made a character over the limit for evil or annoyance, they had to die by the end of the book…" said Minuet, glaring. 

"And, you _quite _exceeded the angst limit in killing Sirius Black," said Asha furiously. 

"Who, by the way, is my cousin. I didn't think you knew that," added Minuet. 

"And my friend," said Asha, fire in her eyes. "So, what say you?" 

She stepped back. "Oh…um…well…" She looked a bit frightened. "I'm—I'm sorry, I didn't really want to, but I'm a big fan of angst, and it was rather angsty, and—"

"Don't make excuses," said Minuet. "We haven't listed _half of your offenses." _

"Oh, shit," said Rowling in a weak voice. 

"Yeah," said Asha. "Shit is right. We'll get you out after we've fixed your errors." She shoved Rowling into a nearby closet. "Now, let's get to work." 


	4. The Woes of Cornelius Fudge

AN: Allo…as promised, here we've continued…but first, to everyone who reviewed, THANK YOU! 

Flattened Bookworm aka Ari: Wow! Now we've got a shrine? Nice! Thanks for keeping up with the story, and we definitely need your luck. *appreciation-fest*

Jennifer: oh *tears of happiness* joy! that's what we were aiming for, to cure OotP angst! Mission is fulfilled! Yay! Yep, we thought killing off Harry just wouldn't work out after all. Glad to see you support our decision. 

Alynna Lis Eachann: Cool name. Thanks for reviewing, and yes, we KNOW! How dare she! *bops Rowling with a rubber chicken* Fie! 

 Never thought this would be popular…I'm so pleased people actually like the concept…Whaha. I suppose we've defeated our original purpose of this story, in deciding not to kill Harry, however since Yilantri(that's me) is currently working on a more serious continuation of the events after OotP, which follows Harry as main character like usual, she doesn't want to be seen as a hypocrite in any way, shape or form. Oh, and anyone who has any ideas on what they think violates security codes, etc., or what changes should be made to invalidate things, email Yilantri at alizee_@eml.cc so we can incorporate them. So long! 

Disclaimer: Yep, we still don't own the Harry Potter series. Golly gee, what a gosh-darn pea-pickin' shame that is. We do own the concept of the Department of Story Control, etc. though, and the characters. Go us, we're creative! Whoot! ^^

Chapter Four:  The Woes of Cornelius Fudge

Meanwhile, back in America, Sylph looked happily at her computer. The extraordinary object could (due to a complex spell, no doubt) track things in the Outside, and she saw that Asha and Minuet had made it to Rowling's domicile. _Great, she thought confidently, _they'll be able to fix things up, then. Now, what to do about…_She was interrupted by a loud knock on her office door. "Yes, come in," she called. "Go ahead." _

The door opened, and in stepped her coworker and friend Níranie, who worked as an Auror often, but did a lot in the Department of Story control. "Hey there, Sylph," she said, looking tired. "Whew. It's been a long day." 

"Yeah, me too," replied Sylph sympathetically. "What with the Author having to be fired, and everything…what's wrong?" she asked. "You look really stressed." 

"I am," said Níranie wearily, sitting down. "I was out after this person who apparently has been torturing Muggles in their basement."

"Oh my god!" exclaimed Sylph, horrified. "That's sick! Who would…that's just gross. I haven't really heard of much anti-Muggle activity here, although in England that Lord whatever and his Death Eaters were doing things like that right and left, or so I hear." 

"It's simply awful. One of those pure-blood fanatics, you know, but on a grand scale…all that crap in England is starting to give people here confidence. Plus, the unstable political situation right now is making it easier…" Níranie sighed. "I got the woman eventually, but it was a struggle. She kept trying to hit me with the Cruciatus Curse, and she got me once. It sucked." 

"Oh, I'm sorry, that must have been lousy…" said Sylph. 

"Yep, it was," agreed Níranie, "but she's off to Kataph now. Thank goodness. You know, this all seems, I don't know, wrong in some way. I mean, couldn't the Author just, you know, write Voldemort and his crowd out of the picture? I mean, wasn't she the one who sort of started it all off?" 

"I've talked to Asha about that," said Sylph, arranging a few papers on her desk, "and she says that it's because this world existed without any connection to the Outside, before the book connection was made. Volwhatever was bound to exist, she just took advantage of his previous existence and made him the main villain. You have to admit, she couldn't have picked someone more evil." 

"But Big Nasty V was written to do all the stuff he's done since, though," pointed out Níranie. Sylph grinned at her term for Voldemort. They in the Department of Story Control often used strange nicknames for him. 

"Yeah, but Asha says he would have done stuff just as bad without Rowling's interference, and it would have caused just as much damage. Rowling just wrote the direction it went, and who it affected, to center on her main character. And she chose the people as major characters to maximize the angst that she could write about and still be interesting." 

"Oh. I get it, sort of," said Níranie, laughing, although the laugh was a bit hollow. "I was just getting annoyed, you know, like 'Hey, I wouldn't have to go out and face all these awful people all the time if Rowling had just blah blah blah', but I can't blame it on anyone but humanity. Darn it." 

"Yeah, it must be a bit depressing, being an Auror," said Sylph, looking concerned. "Shall we change the subject, slightly? I'd like to ask your advice on something." 

"Sure," said Níranie. 

"OK. I was thinking, should we alert the English Ministry about the book situation? In case of any weird changes that may occur? Or at least try to?" 

"But that would mean Fudge, wouldn't it?" asked Níranie, looking doubtful. "I've read the books, and he won't believe you, I swear. I think I met him once. Saw him at the Quidditch World Cup a few years ago, when England was playing the U.S. Got slaughtered, they did," she added, with a certain degree of satisfaction. "At any rate, he's not that open-minded. Remember what an idiot he was regarding Big Nasty V?" 

"Yep," said Sylph, sighing. "But I still think we should try. It's only decent. Courtesy, you know. And we could put a spell on him, or _somehow—" Níranie grinned at this, she had no doubt that Sylph's 'somehow' didn't involve a lot of ethical decisions. "get him to keep quiet about what we tell him. We don't want anyone else in the Ministry there to find out." _

"Go for it, then," said Níranie. "Call me for backup if you have any trouble. I'm going to start working on this new idea I've got." 

"Ooooh—what?" questioned Sylph, looking very interested. 

"None of your business," replied Níranie, grinning. "I'll tell you if I work it out, 'kay?"

"All right. Wish me luck," said Sylph, and with a loud crack, she disappeared. 

-- 

Asha looked at the master computer in awe. "Would you look at this, Minuet," she said. "This thing can control our world…"

"It's a bit mind-boggling, isn't it?" agreed Minuet. "I mean, this is how…you know…Sirius…" 

"Yep," said Asha abruptly. "So what do we do first? I'd like to get Sirius back in the picture immediately, but I think we need to first plant things to invalidate the prophecy in relation to Harry. I was thinking, we make it so that the prophecy actually applies to someone else. That, and giving Harry a personality, should take away Rowling's Authority rather well."

"Couldn't we just get rid of Umbridge first?" asked Minuet wistfully. "She's such an unbearable creep…"

"You know, maybe we should, at that," said Asha, looking thoughtful. "Just to make sure this works properly. If we make a mistake with Umbridge, nobody will give a damn."

"OK, sounds good to me," said Minuet. "If that works, we can type up something about Sibyll Trelawney, regarding the prophecy."

"Deal," said Asha, and started to type furiously. Minuet watched the words appear across the screen. 

Dolores Umbridge sat in her office, fuming. Her departure from Hogwarts had been completely unnecessary. That fool Cornelius Fudge should _never have gotten rid of the position of High Inquisitor…_

--

Cornelius Fudge was not having the greatest of days. In fact, he was completely and utterly pissed off. 

Now, of course, he felt his anger was completely righteous. Why? Well, he'd never been that much of an angry sort, not before that awful Dumbledore and his protégé, Harry Potter, had started off those rumors about You-Know-Who having returned. Then all his plans to restore order to the Ministry, manage some control over Hogwarts, and keep Dumbledore off of his position, had been cast out the window, useless, because of the small fact that that wizard styling himself Lord had, indeed, returned. It would have been so much easier to discredit Dumbledore for instigating panic among the community, therefore insuring his downfall from popularity, but nooo, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named just _had to come back. And now the Ministry would be in complete disfavor, as Kingsley Shacklebolt had just informed him that they had information from a reliable source that Sirius Black had gone and gotten himself knocked off, meaning that the Ministry hadn't even managed to get him back into Azkaban. Preposterous! Absurd! But he trusted Kingsley, although the man had acted a bit strange when telling him the news. Almost sad, like. Which made no sense, as Black was a dangerous criminal, but he supposed Kingsley was feeling a bit put out at having his job become obsolete. However, Fudge would probably give him the new job of keeping tabs on Dumbledore's doings. Fudge still didn't trust him not to take over the job of Minister, despite his constant assurances that he had no desire to rob Fudge of his position. _

And to make matters worse, some of the Aurors kept stopping their conversations whenever he walked by, as if they were hiding something. Of course, Aurors were always dodgy sorts, being secretive and often a bit paranoid. Just look at Mad-Eye Moody, who used to work for the Ministry. Tonks in particular had been acting a bit strange, she would keep asking for any interesting news, practically interrogating him with questions. And something was going in the Department of Mysteries, although, as usual, nobody bothered to tell him what. Plus,_ in addition to all these problems, the elections for Minister were coming up, and he was dreadfully worried the recent events might put him out of a job. _

Just then, in the midst of his misery, Tonks walked into his office, looking cheerful as she proceeded to knock over an end-table. "Oh, oops, sorry about that," she said brightly. "I really need to work on my coordination. Just wanted to let you know that there's an emissary from the American Ministry of Magic who wishes to speak with you. She's just registered her wand at the door. Will you see her?" 

_An emissary? From the American Ministry?_ He felt a twinge of dislike. He had never really forgiven the Americans for their crushing defeat of the English Quidditch team... Still, there was no reason not to speak with the emissary, whoever they were. He wondered why they would send someone…surely the Americans weren't involved in all the rubbish happening here? 

"Sir?"

"Oh, yes, Tonks," he said absently. "Send her in." 

Sylph entered Cornelius Fudge's office with some trepidation, but a diligent attitude. She would _make _him listen to what she had to say, even if he didn't believe any of it. Putting on a smile, she greeted the rather short man, who was sitting looking sorry for himself at a desk stacked with various official papers. "Thank you for agreeing to see me, Mr. Fudge, sir," she said pleasantly. "I'm Sylph, and I represent the Department of Story Control, which is a section of the Department of Mysteries in the American Ministry of Magic. I came here to inform you of something that I thought you may wish to know." 

Fudge blinked. "Department of Story Control?" he asked skeptically. "If you don't mind me asking, what the hell are you talking about? Are you talking about some sort of gossip-preventing, or…" 

"No, actually," said Sylph amiably. "That's not at all what I was talking about. Now, I must ask you not to interrupt until I'm finished telling you this, Mr. Fudge. You may find this rather hard to believe."

Fudge thought this was a bit presumptuous and rude. He was, after all, the Minister of Magic, and he deserved to be talked to with respect. However, he found himself extremely curious about what this woman had to say, so he swallowed his criticism and said stiffly, "Right. So. What have you come to tell me?" 

"Mr. Fudge, your world, my world—this universe that we're residing in at the moment—is currently part of a chronicle, set as a fiction novel in a parallel universe, or actually several fiction novels, to be honest, which are--" 

"What's this supposed to mean?" snapped Fudge, who was slightly embarrassed that he wasn't really understanding what she was saying.

"As I was saying," said Sylph pointedly, "these fiction novels are being read by people in a parallel universe, who have no idea that wizardry, and indeed all the people involved in the story written in the novels, actually exist somewhere. You, Mr. Fudge, are a character in this novel. This world existed before the fiction novels, but the connection between this world and the Outside, which is what we like to call the world where the novels are written and read, was created just before the birth of Harry Potter. We believe it was made because of a lack of necessary funding, which we gained from the connection. So, this part of the world, England to be exact, is being guided by our current Author, J.K. Rowling, who was appointed after the connection was made. You are being all rather controlled in your actions, and indeed, your personalities somewhat, by what the Author writes. Our department deals with controlling the story somewhat, to make sure the Author doesn't get out of line." 

Fudge was feeling very uneasy. "I don't understand your meaning, woman, so please get to the point of it. You're being incomprehensible." 

"You're living inside of a book, Mr. Fudge," said Sylph. "And you're just a character in it." 

Fudge stood up so quickly he knocked over his chair. "That's a load of dung," he said in a low voice. "We are _not _living inside of a book. That's rubbish!" 

"I told you it would be hard to believe," said Sylph calmly. "I'm sorry if I've disturbed you in any way." 

"The only thing that disturbs me is that the American Ministry is hiring lunatics, and sponsoring crackpot concepts such as this!" said Fudge angrily. "I'll be writing to your Minister about this—"

"I assure you, the Department of Story Control works mostly independent from the rest of the Ministry," replied Sylph, "although our Minister does know about it. And I can also assure you this is all true. I can show you, if you want." 

"What proof could you possibly have?" raged Fudge, throwing his hands up in the air. "Better to find proof of the existence of angels, or one of those imaginary creatures in The Quibbler! Certainly, there is no doubt that this is a pack of lies." 

Sylph opened her briefcase and pulled out several large hardcover books. Five, to be exact. "Here." She put them on his desk. "If you need any more proof then that, you're mad." 

Fudge's eyes widened. "What—"

"I know, they're all about Harry Potter," said Sylph, sounding slightly sorry, "but the Author chooses their own main character. I daresay someone else would have made a better choice—I myself was more in favor of this girl who's at Beauxbatons named Solange Caillol, as Harry's a bit lacking in a personality. However, the author was English, so I suppose she was bound to choose someone from this area. At any rate, there's your proof. You can find yourself mentioned in there—you'll find all the dialogue exactly correct. For instance, near the end of the largest one, _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire,_ you'll find a full account of your argument with Dumbledore. Also, I suppose, you can find a good account of Harry's experience with Voldemort last June. I know that interview from the Quibbler was good, but I've not found one more reliable than this. Of course, I can't allow you to read most of them—you'd find out things you aren't meant to know—however, it should convince you. If it doesn't, well, I'm sorry." 

Fudge was flipping through the first volume, looking horrified. "This is impossible!" 

"Obviously not," said Sylph, looking as if she was enjoying herself. 

"I refuse to accept this!" said Fudge, now rather hysterical. "I don't know what this rubbish is, but I shall be informing the rest of the Ministry immediately! Whatever you Americans choose to believe, you are all complete lunatics!" 

"Oh, I thought you might see it that way," sighed Sylph, looking regretful. "I was hoping I'd been wrong in my assessment of your character. I'll take these back," she said, and she swept the books off of the desk and into her suitcase. "Now, you said you'd tell the rest of the Ministry about this, am I correct?" 

"Of course! I can't let something like this—"

"I think you'll be happy to keep silent, Mr. Fudge," said Sylph, her tone slightly menacing. "Because if you don't, I'll give _this…" _She waved a small envelope. "…to the Daily Prophet." 

"What is that?" said Fudge sharply. "I demand that you give that to me! Immediately!"

She took out some folded papers, unfolded them, and held them in front of Fudge's now red face. His eyes widened. "That's—that's a confidential—"

"Record? Yes, I know. You really wouldn't want these…" she dangled them carelessly. "…accidentally sent to the editor of the Daily Prophet, would you now. So, possibly, to avoid any _errors _on my part, you might want to keep what I've just said to yourself, hm? What do you say?" 

"This-this is blackmail!" sputtered Fudge, shocked. 

"Yep," said Sylph, unconcerned. "Works pretty well, doesn't it?" 

Fudge's face had turned from red to a rather dark shade of purple. "I'll get you for this!" 

"Right you will, maybe," said Sylph, nodding. "And the public will get these. Anyway, I should be going…have a nice day, Mr. Fudge!" She strolled out of the office, leaving Fudge in a worse mood then he'd been in quite some time. He was so furious that he threw his cup of coffee against the wall, not noticing Sylph in the hallway, pumping her fist in the air. 

--


	5. Dealing With Dolores

AN: Aaah! *faints* Lurvely! More people enjoy this! Thanks to our many devoted reviewers-  

*Will-and-Lyra-for-ever- (that book is awesome, by the way-the ending was so SAD, though…) VERY glad you like it-Rowling is evil, although she writes rather well. 

*To RadiantRose327- well, well, well! Such a long review, we're flattered! I agree, I think that Sirius will return, but we just don't want to wait until the next book comes out. Regarding Harry, well, he does have a BIT of personality. And the teenage thing, you've got a point. We'll just have to agree to disagree about him, though. But you're definitely right-Sirius would have been majorly pissed if we'd done the dirty deed, which is one of our main reasons for refraining. Thanks SO much for the honor and worship! Lord, we'll have to be creating a new religion soon…hmm, that's an idea. *jots that down*

*Jowa-We're glad you like the concept! So do we! ^^ And, you're so flattering. Us? Hilarious? O.O

*Xtremefaller- Oh, God, We can't believe we forgot that. Harry has no luck with girls, you're right. We can't do any couples because there are so many different opinions…we'll work in some satire somewhere though, be sure of it. Because we luuuurve to make fun of Harry. ^^

*The Amazing Snorkack-Nice name. Luna is awesome. Glad you like our story so much! We would have liked to kill Harry, but then Sirius would be all upset, and then he wouldn't be his kewl self 'cause he'd be depressed! And Tonks isn't even in the Outside. However, do not fear. We will take care of the problem of the book/wizarding world connection. We didn't say that. We repeat, you did not hear that…. 

*Fenice-Yes, we ARE crazy! Thanks! Now we're innovative! Aaah, I can't get a swelled head over this. Yay, thank you, we're flattered again. So flattered we're flattened. *splat* Oops…by the way, Yilantri wishes she could understand more French to read your story…Yilantri: "aargh, I'll NEVER be fluent…."

*ScapeGirl: Yep! It's so SAAAD! We know, points are good. Anything to make happish-campers! ^_- 

*PrincessEilonwy: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!! You reviewed every chapter, thanks for joining on to our little band! Fudge is to be pitied, so is most ignorance. By the way, Yilantri absolutely WORSHIPS your humor fics, especially 'Sirius on the Rum'. You're brilliant! *bows* Continue! Yilantri lurves your style! ^^

 Well…not much to comment re: this chapter. Happy late 4th of July, everyone! Whaha…*evil grin* We scared the pants off the neighbors…

Disclaimer: This is breaking news from FanFiction.Net. We have just discovered that two of our authors do not own Harry Potter. More details later.

--

Chapter Five: Dealing With Dolores

Asha paused in her typing.

"How, exactly, are we supposed to do this?" She inquired of Minuet.

"Well…" Minuet said slowly, finally thinking about the situation at hand. "We have to kill her off, that's a given. But how to kill her off so it seems natural…"

"We could write her getting killed by the centaurs."

"But that part's already published, so that won't work."

"Hm…" Minuet groped for a new idea…and came up with nothing. "I don't know."

Asha looked back at what she had typed:

Dolores Umbridge sat in her office, fuming. Her departure from Hogwarts had been completely unnecessary. That fool Cornelius Fudge should never have gotten rid of the position of High Inquisitor…

"You know, now that I think about it, why would Umbridge still want to be at Hogwarts?" Asha mused. "I mean, she did get attacked by centaurs there…"

"Good point." said Minuet. "I've got it. Budge over, let me type."

Asha got up and surrendered the chair to Minuet, who sat down and, with a big flourish, hit the backspace key. Soon, all the screen told her was,

_Dolores Umbridge sat in her office, _

"Okay." Minuet cracked her knuckles and set her fingers on the keyboard once more. "Here goes nothing."

--

Dolores Umbridge sat in her office, nervously awaiting what she knew would not be good news. Her reign at Hogwarts, it seemed, was not being looked kindly upon by the parents of the students who weren't in Slytherin. Many students had gone home, and told their guardians of detention with Umbridge. For the past week she had gotten at least thirty howlers everyday. And, as if that weren't enough, she was being charged and tried for disturbing a magical species in their natural habitat. She hadn't officially gotten the warning yet, as that was what she was waiting for, but Fudge had already told her. _Fudge is a moron,_ she said to herself bitterly. _He's the one who's to blame. He let this all happen. He's the reason I got attacked by centaurs, and am now being tried in court for having committed offenses in doing to. It's all his fault._ She found it much easier to blame her woes on Fudge. It was somehow satisfying. But it still didn't ease the tension in her stomach. 

A flying, folded memo tried to swoop into her office and immediately became a crumbled piece of paper lying just outside her door. Hurriedly, Umbridge threw it open and snatched up the paper airplane, unfolded it and scanned the few sentences. 

_Dolores Umbridge,_

_We regret to inform you that you are being accused of Disturbing a Protected Magical Species on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and of abusing your position of High Inquisitor. Your trial is to be held today, at 5:00 sharp, in the Department of Abuse, room 3204. We apologize for the short notice, but your trial needs to be held ASAP because of undisclosed reasons. If you do not show up, you are automatically convicted. _

_Sincerely, _

_            Alathea Scarecrow, Department of Abuse_

            Umbridge stared at the paper, her stomach sinking and a misplaced rage building up inside her.

"Five o'clock?" She demanded of the air. "five o'clock? How the heck am I supposed to prepare a defense when my trial is only ten minutes away? I'll see about this…Ooh, I am going to kill fudge…five o'clock?" She could feel herself growing quite hot in the face, and she now knew what many authors of years past meant by 'seeing red'. Letting out a strangled screech, she tore the notice into as many small pieces as her chubby fingers could manage and threw them into the air. As they rained down like confetti, she stomped over to her desk and started rummaging for her wand. "Where is it, where is it!" she demanded of herself. She caught sight of one of her round-eyed kittens, watching her from it plate. It was quite obviously laughing. 

"Stupid, bloody, arrogant little yank!" she screamed at it. It quickly tried to mask its giggles, but to no avail. Umbridge grabbed the plate and threw it against the wall on the far side of her office, where it shattered into thousands of tiny shards. She glared around at the other kittens, as though daring any of them to find this funny. They all quickly absorbed themselves in examining the borders on their dishes, and none looked her in the eye. 

Having quite forgotten about her desperate search for her wand, Dolores Umbridge stormed out of her office, slamming the door behind her with such force that another kitten met it's doom as it's plate tumbled to the floor. Umbridge ignored the smashing noise, fuming all the way down the hall. 

She impatiently stood in the lift, glaring at anyone who dared to look at her, shifting her considerable weight from foot to foot, angrily muttering curses on Fudge under her breath. 

The doors opened on Fudge's floor and she stomped her way down the hall and pounded on his door with two large, fisted hands. Her pounding was ignored. After a few more strikes, she remembered that the door was sound proofed. The people inside couldn't even hear her. 

She tried the knob; it was locked. Practically pulling out her hair, she let out another strangled noise that sounded somewhat like a mixture between agony and anger. 

Breathlessly, she glared at her watch, in search of the time. She had seven minutes to get her defense ready. She reached for her wand, she never felt comfortable without it, and discovered that she didn't have it. 

"Can my life get any worse?" she demanded of Fudge's locked door. Two lift rides, three more smashed plates and several swearwords later found Umbridge, smiling pleasantly, in the courtroom, trying to defend herself.

"Did you, Miss Umbridge," said her examiner, one Brodilla Sampsion, "Use a cutting quill during detention with your students?"

"No, I'm afraid that your information must be incorrect, Brodilla. And, if you please, I am a teacher. I expect to be referred to as Professor Umbridge, if you don't mind."

"Very well, then, _Professor_ Umbridge, what do you call this?" A student from Hogwarts, a blonde third-year girl whose name Umbridge could not remember, stepped forward at Brodilla's summons and stretched out her hand. "_Magnico!"_  A larger image of the back of the girl's hand appeared, floating just above it, and the white writing was plainly visible. _I must impart important information._

Umbridge didn't know what to do for a second, and then, still smiling sweetly, said, "The girl would not tell me why her friends and she all came down with fevers at exactly the same time. Told me that it was Umbridge-itis, which is hardly acceptable. I was simply trying to make her see the errors of her tale-telling."

"Are you aware, Professor Umbridge, that the use of cutting quills is illegal?" 

"Well, I'm sure that, given the situation, you can hardly find me in violation of the law." Brodilla leaned in close, so that her nose was barely an inch away from Umbridge's.

"I believe you will find, Dolores, that the law does not bend to allow teachers to punish their students illegally." She straightened up again, and turned away, facing the council of people who had been summoned to try Umbridge. "Let us proceed to the second bit of evidence against Professor Umbridge. You may go, Michaela." The blonde girl hurried back to her mother, on the far side of the room. "Dolores Umbridge is said to have granted Mr. Argus Filch, a Squib currently employed as the caretaker at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a document which gave him the ability to whip any student who disobeys the smallest rules. The proof." A small, stout man came forward, carrying a sheet of paper. Umbridge's stomach sank as she recognized it as her Approval for Whipping, which she knew bore her signature. 

"Well…I…uh…" Umbridge stammered.

"That's what I thought." Brodilla replied coolly. 

"Ah…that's fabricated evidence!" Umbridge sputtered, her voice growing steadily higher with each word, an incredible feat considering the girlish-pitch her voice normally retained. "I never signed such a document! It was…" She desperately searched around for a person to blame it on. "Forgery, by…Theodore Marshtrap!" She had no idea where the name had come from, but it sounded familiar. She'd heard it recently. 

"Theodore Marshtrap," said Brodilla in a dry voice, "is the very wizard who verified the signature's authenticity. He's out Ministry expert at Verification Spells. Your excuse has no meaning, Professor Umbridge." 

"Well…I was…tricked into signing that document!" shrieked Umbridge, growing rather hysterical. Some of the people on the jury were exchanging glances with each other, rolling their eyes and clearly unconvinced.

"This'll be the easiest decision this jury ever made," muttered a woman with wavy red hair, with some satisfaction. She was greeted by nods.

"You were tricked, Professor Umbridge?" Brodilla raised an eyebrow. "And may I inquire as to who it was that tricked you? Surely, it was not our well-esteemed Theodore Marshtrap?"

Umbridge worked her jaw for a moment, her head whirling in a frantic search of someone to blame her signature on. She failed to come up with a decent name, so went for the second best option.

"I don't know his name! He was wearing a mask!" she cried, getting to her feet in what she hoped looked like an act of desperation. "Do not condemn me for the trickery of an unknown villain!"

"Unknown villain, indeed." Brodilla stated disapprovingly. "Could this unknown villain have been, perhaps, your own greed for power? Or on an off chance, might it have been your grandmother, trying to punish you for stealing her cookies?" An appreciative laugh flittered from one jury member to another. Inevitably, this didn't sit too well with Umbridge. She felt her temper start to rage.

"DON'T YOU DARE LAUGH AT ME! DON'T YOU DARE INSULT ME, OR DISCREDIT ME! IT'S NOT MY FAULT! I DID NOTHING! IT WAS ALL FUDGE'S FAULT! IT WAS HIS DOING! HE MADE THE DECREES! HE RAN THE INSPECTIONS! IT WASN'T ME! IT'S ENTIRELY HIS FAULT! HE'S THE ONE YOU OUGHT TO BE TRYING, NOT ME!" 

Umbridge felt that she could have raged on all day, but she sensed that she was getting quite harsh glares from the members of the jury, and decided that it would probably be better for her to be shutting up right about that time. 

"So it wasn't your grandmother after all, was it, _Professor_ Umbridge? It was the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge himself?" 

Umbridge cursed herself. _Now I'll never get off_. She chose not to answer Brodilla's question. With a smirk, Brodilla turned back to her evidence. Several minutes later, Brodilla concluded the inspection of the first charge facing Umbridge. The trial was dismissed for a short break before they were to return to try Umbridge for her second charge: Disturbing a Protected Magical Species on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

Umbridge, feeling down-trodden and quite disheveled, conjured herself a glass of water and smiled weakly at the jury members as each one passed with distain. She took a sip of the water, but a voice behind her caused her to choke and spit it out again.

"Hello Dolores, I heard you came to call at my office earlier today." She turned around, her face radiating the fury that had re-ignited so quickly, waving her wand dangerously close to the Minister's face.

"You," she spat. 

"Me." he said pleasantly. "This is a spot of trouble you've got yourself in, now, isn't it?"

"It's all your fault, and you know it." She spat, as though she were speaking to a vile creature of some crude nature. 

"My dear Dolores, I am afraid that I had little to do with the choices you made concerning the well-being of Hogwarts. I simply allowed you to do whatever it was that you pleased, and if what you pleased to do was, oh, slightly _illegal_, I wash myself of the matter. Good day to you, then. And I do hope that those folks from the American Ministry straighten you out, little though I may approve of them."

--

Minuet stopped her typing. Asha, who had been twisting a rubber band around her finger as tight at it would go from sheer boredom, looked at her quizzically, having noticed the pause in the constant tap-tappings caused by fingers on the keyboard. 

"What is it?" Wordlessly, Minuet pointed to the screen. Asha looked over her shoulder and scanned Fudge's monologue. 

"Those folks from the American Ministry?" Asha snapped, sending a look of disbelief at her counterpart. "Minuet, whatever the heck are you writing? You can't let Fudge know what we're up to. According to security code 018, characters aren't allowed to know that their lives are being controlled unless—" Minuet cut her off.

"I know that, Asha. I didn't break the code. The computer typed that line itself. I swear, by my honor, and by my sadly-deceased-but-soon-to-be-ressurected-sixth-cousin-once-removed, I didn't type that." Asha paused to consider this information.

"Hmm…well, that must have been the OOC spell that this computer is under. Mr. Fudge already knew about us. That means that someone must have told him." The two exchanged looks. "She didn't…"

"Sylph is gunna get it for this one…" Minuet muttered savagely, trying to hit the backspace key and finding it impossible. Still grumbling, she set her fingers back on the keyboard and continued typing. 

Asha felt a slight twinge of pain, and noticed that the tip of her left index finger had turned an alarming shade of purple. Hurriedly, she pulled the rubber band off, and looked about for a safer toy to play with. 

--

Smirking, Fudge left a gaping Dolores Umbridge to her fate. 

The second half of the trial was somewhat of a repeat of the first, only the accusations were of a different sort. Umbridge had quite given up trying to defend herself by now, and instead elected to sit quietly, nod, and fume to herself angrily. 

_I nearly get killed by centaurs,_ she growls to herself, _and here I am being tried for disturbing a magical species because of it! Ooh, if only I had my wand with me, I'd show these people disturbance._ She looked longingly at her wand, which, for "safety purposes", had been placed on a table just out of her reach. Suddenly, she noticed that the person who was suppose to be there guarding it, well, wasn't. _Fool!_ She gleefully cried to herself. _Probably hopped off to the loo!_ She looked around to see who was watching her. Brodilla had her back turned, speaking to the jury, who all had their eyes locked on her. The few witnesses left in the room were all eagerly watching Brodilla deliver the final blow, to seal the case. No one was looking at Umbridge. 

As quietly as she could, Umbridge scooted her chair forward. It made no noise, so she chanced scooting it a little further. Again, it didn't make a sound. Her wand was now almost within her reach. She started to scoot the last few inches, when a member of the jury noticed her and shouted, "Hey! What are you doing!"

_Now or never,_ Umbridge ordered herself. She made a flying leap for her wand, hand outstretched, and managed to snatch it off the table before Brodilla got there. She also managed to smash her nose on the corner of the table, causing it to hurt horribly and spurt blood. But she didn't have time to worry about that now. Holding her wand aloft, she uttered the first spell she thought of. 

"_Crucio_!" the spell hit Brodilla in her hip, and the witch collapsed to the floor is agony. 

But before Umbridge had even managed to figure out which spell she had put on the poor woman, she was hit with seven various jinxes, all legal and all thrown by members of the jury. Umbridge, blood still pouring from her nose, hit the ground, unable to move her legs, her arms glued to her sides, her wand flying across the room in two separate pieces, and some strange sort of plant sprouting from her ears. 

Still shaking, Brodilla stood up and looked down at Umbridge coolly. 

"The use of a Unforgivable Curse, Umbridge, on top of your other charges, is enough to earn you a Dementor's Kiss. However, as the Dementors have left us for the dark side, we'll just have to think of something else." She turned to the jury members. "You may all go into the adjoining room, and discuss proper punishment for Dolores Jane Umbridge."

As the jury members filed out, a short, plumb wizard hurried forward and fixed up Umbridge, stopping her nosebleed and enabling her to stand up again. He didn't seem to feel inclined, however, to allow her to move her arms, or to remove the plant that had now rooted itself quite firmly in her ear canal. It didn't take the jury long to come to a conclusion. One of the jury members handed Brodilla a piece of parchment, which Brodilla opened with a flourish, clearing her throat to read. 

"Dolores Jane Umbridge, this jury has found you guilty of all charges against you, including the use of an Unforgivable Curse. Under normal circumstances, you would be sentenced to the punishment of the Dementor's Kiss. However, since such a punishment is not practical at this point in time, you have been sentenced to banishment from the wizarding community." Umbridge let out a disbelieving squeak. "Your memory will be wiped of all things magical, and you will serve as a telemarketer in the Muggle world. Kindly proceed to the Ministry exit, where your memory will be wiped."

Umbridge's arm was grabbed rather roughly and she was dragged away from the jury and out of the room. She kept opening and closing her mouth, as though trying to catch a fly or some other, equally undignified insect. 

She never got a look at the person who was leading her to the familiar lift that would take her to the phone booth that lead into the ministry. The person who was taking her there muttered a few spells under his breath, and she found herself able to move her arms, although she left them limp at her sides, and the plant gone from it's home in her ear. The two passed through to the phone booth, where Umbridge heard her last spell. 

"_Mojra Obliviate!_" she barely managed to register that this was a high-powered memory charm, which was meant to re-write someone's entire life in their memory. 

"I believe this is the street you were looking for, Miss Robinson?" asked the stranger. Umbridge smiled happily at him. 

"Yes, thank you ever so much. I must be more careful when traveling around London. It is so easy to get lost, you know."

"Yes, well, nice meeting you, Miss Robinson." Umbridge smiled sweetly. 

"Please, do call me Mary Sue. Miss Robinson sounds so stuffy." Smiling again, she happily skipped off down the street, blissfully unaware that there was a thing even resembling the magical world. 

After all, Mary Sue Robinson wasn't a witch. 

--

"Mary Sue?" Asha questioned, her face starting to turn somewhat red from trying not to laugh. "Mary Sue? Why Mary Sue?" Minuet grinned.

"It's an Outside term. It's a character that you use in a fan fiction, who is paired up with a character that you feel sorry for because they don't have anyone to be romantically involved with." Asha stared at her co-worker for a moment, trying to work out whether or not she was telling the truth. "Honestly." Minuet added. Asha instantly doubled over with laughter, and Minuet joined her. After a few minutes of hysterics, during which Minuet fell out of her chair and Asha knocked over the trash, they managed to calm down. Asha pulled herself into the chair in front of the computer, grabbed the mouse and clicked on the save icon. The screen vibrated slightly and the computer saved the new data, and then stopped. Asha pulled a list out of her pocket and put a check next to the name Dolores Umbridge.

"Ooh, look who our next victim is." Asha said gleefully to Minuet, holding the list out. 

"We can avenge my cousin's 'death'!" Minuet cried, still slightly giddy from all of the laughing. 

"But you'll still be short a cousin," Asha answered, rolling her eyes at her giggling friend. She looked at the next name on the list in satisfaction. The offender had violated both the evil limit, and the angst limit, having caused the death of a character with an exceedingly high angst level. _You're gunna get what you've got coming, Bellatrix Lestrange, _she thought to herself, smirking slightly. _Oh, yes you are. If only I was there to see it. _She resisted the urge to cackle evilly. _This should be fun…_

With Minuet still giggling in the background, which Asha knew would take about five more minutes to calm down, because of Minuet's inability to stop laughing on command, Asha set her fingers on the keyboard.

--

Moo Straberry: Okay, hope you guys liked that. Sorry it took me so long to write. Yilantri isn't happy with me at all for taking so long. However, here it is. R&R, and ideas are appreciated!

Yilantri: Damn straight. ^_^ Read, review, live long and prosper! 


	6. Useless Courtesies

AN: Hey guys, Moo here. I am currently rather vexed with Yilantri, as she has been taking a dreadfully long time writing the 6th chapter of A Loss of Authority, or ALOA as we call it in the emails we exchange (in which I pester her to get it done and she makes excuses as to why I shouldn't decapitate her because it's not finished yet), seeing as it's been about a year since the last post. And I'm not exaggerating. I'm actually _this close_ holds fingers veeeery close together to letting her real name slip just to spite her, but I have to clear anything I post through her since it's on her account, and I'm not quite _that_ evil, anyway.

We've got some brilliant ideas coming up (the next punishment is, in my opinion, at least twice as hysterical as Umbridge's, but you'll have to wait for Yilantri to know what it is. I'm not _authorized_ (buh bum ching) to disclose that information). But, unfortunately, we can do nothing with them, thanks to Yilantri and her indecisive muses. Believe me when I say I'm as desperate as you are. However, Yilantri and I are not often together, seeing as she lives in a different town than I do, so I can't threaten her physically. So I'm taking the only option left to me: I'm writing a filler chapter. Of course, I don't have permission to do this, but hey. What can I lose? As a result, this will be a short, pointless chapter. Then again, this entire story is pretty pointless. But that's beside the point (buh, dum, ching again. Oh no!! My science teacher is poisoning my mind with his bad puns!! Run away!!)…

PrincessEilonwy: Yes, my cohort and I are sick and twisted. The telemarketing thing just seemed to be a suitable punishment, and it was entertaining enough to suit our purposes. Glad to see you agree. And, trust me, you won't be disappointed when Yilantri gets around to writing "Bella's" punishment. It's pure genius. But, once again, I can't say any more than that. And yes, it should definitely be a crime for evil people to have such awesome names. They should all be named Spoon, or something equally degrading.

Jennifer: Woot!! We are cool people!! I'm trying to keep it going. I can't speak for Yilantri…but really, she's doing her best. Her I!E is taking up a lot of time. And it's going to be good!! Look for it in stores a couple years from now. When it's published, we'll stick the name in here. :-P

Fenice: That's an interesting take on Harry's lack of a personality. Hmmm…maybe we should send him to an orphanage and get him adopted by Simon Cowell. That'd fix the ego problem, for sure.

Pyrinsomniac: O.O gets teary eyed That's so sweet!! You are very welcome!! Someone get me a tissue…lol. Really, we were/are glad to do it. We suffer as much from Rowling's lack of respect for her readers and their emotions as you do. I'll have to disagree with you on the bit about burning OotP. I mean, if she hadn't written it, we wouldn't have had to write this, which would be good because no wrongs would have been committed, but then we wouldn't have had any reason to make Umbridge a telemarketer. Who can willingly condemn that amusement?

At any rate….

Disclaimer: Since J.K. Rowling has been fired and Asha and Minuet are currently in possession of the Harry Potter series, and I own them (or at lease one of them. Minuet is mine), I do, as a matter of fact, own HP, in my own little twisted version of reality.

…

Wouldn't it be great if it really worked that way?

…

Don't sue me!! Or Yilantri, either, I suppose.

--

Chapter Six: Useless Courtesies

Meanwhile, on the Inside, Molly Weasley sat at her kitchen table, staring intently into the fire. Her home was quiet, which was unusual for the modest dwelling of the Weasley family. Ever since the twins had moved into that joke shop of theirs, Ron and Ginny had been doing their best to keep the noise level up, but both were currently outside. Molly hadn't heard a peep from either of them and none of her windows were broken, so far as she knew, which was slightly alarming. What in the world were they doing out there?

She considered hunting her two youngest down to find out, but then she decided that she wasn't anxious to know. The peace in the small house was rather relaxing, and if she disturbed it now, it might be long in returning.

That decided, she turned her thoughts to a much more disconcerting matter. What had those two witched who had complained about the furniture arrangement been up to? Who were they? Where were they from? And why on Earth couldn't they talk to the Weasleys, too?

Molly hated being left out of business concerning the Order of the Phoenix, especially since all they dealt with was stuff concerning Voldemort and Harry Potter. Molly had a special place in her heart for that poor boy, and wanted to help keep him safe, of course, but her motherly instincts gave her a far more pressing reason to hate not knowing: it seemed whatever danger targeted Harry often found Ron and Hermione as well. If Ron came to harm over whatever those witches were planning, she didn't care who they were. She would hex the living daylights out of them and leave them squirming on the ground with slugs crawling out of their nasal—

"Mum! Ron dumped water on me!" Ginny's distressed voice interrupted.

"I did not! You pulled the string yourself! It's not my fault you've got the brains of a—"

Her previous train of thought having made her a bit tetchy, Molly deftly cut him off. "Work it out yourselves! I'm tired of being your referee!" she shouted, finally pulling her eyes away from the fire to project her voice outside more easily. There was a moment of shocked silence, and then two bashful, red-trimmed faces appeared in the doorway. There was water dripping off Ginny's pigtails onto the floor, but the 14-year-old didn't seem to notice.

"Mum?" Ron asked carefully, mindful of his mother's temper. "Are you feeling okay?"

Apparently, her response had been alarmingly out of character. Molly sighed.

"Yes, Ron, I'm fine. I've just got—something on my mind."

"Is it Order of the Phoenix business?" he immediately demanded, probably fearing for the well-being of his best friend.

"Is Harry okay?" Ginny squeaked, expressing the same sentiments in a much less subtle way than her brother.

"Yes, yes. Harry is fine." She assured them. "It's nothing you need to be worried about. Ginny, go dry yourself off. Run along, Ron."

Dripping wet, Ginny marched up the stairs to her room as Ron disappeared into the garden again. Once her offspring were out of her sight, Molly turned back to the fireplace, trying to keep from thinking about what that water was going to do to the floorboards.

What she was in the fireplace quickly erased that thought.

"Tonks!" she cried happily, standing up so fast she almost knocked her chair over. Maybe she could finally learn something about this business with those two foreign witches. She quickly came around the table and knelt in from of the fireplace.

"Hi Molly," Tonks greeted cheerfully, electric blue hair falling into her eyes. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Tonks. What are you calling for?"

"Oh, I just wanted to make sure you weren't worried about Asha and Minuet's visit."

"Yes, I was wondering about that."

"I thought you might be. Well, don't worry about them. They're competent, and they're good at what they do."

"That's reassuring, I suppose. What is it they do?"

"I really can't tell you. See, they're part of the American Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries, so their job is all one big secret. Very hush, hush. They thought there might have been a problem, but they're taking care of it now. There's no need to worry. And don't freak out if you notice anything strange going on. It's all in context."

"In context? What's that suppose to mean?"

"Uh, I can't really tell you. Um—Molly, I need to be going. Just—don't worry, okay?"

"Okay. Good-bye, Tonks."

"Sayonara." Tonks pulled her head out of the fire, smacking it hard on the brick behind her. "Ow…" she mumbled.

"Now that you've got that out of your system," Moody growled at her, his magic eye fixed on her menacingly, "can we move on to more important business?"

"Someone had to tell her not to worry," Tonks retorted defensively, "if only as a courtesy."

"A useless courtesy," Moody snapped back.

"Moody, Tonks," Lupin said calmingly, his voice just loud enough to be heard. "It doesn't matter. Let's move on."

"But—"

"Tonks." Having been reprimanded enough for one minute, Tonks reluctantly moved away from the fire, brushing soot off her clothing as she seated herself in a chair. Moody hobbled over and took the chair opposite her.

"So there's been a death-eater sighting…" he started in, his gnarly fingers indicating the places. Tonks sighed and tried to force herself to pay attention, but her mind still wandered.

__

I wonder what Asha and Minuet are going to do to Bellatrix…She sincerely hoped it was something sick, twisted and sadistic.

--

Arthur apparated into the kitchen at exactly eight o-clock, humming gleefully to himself.

"Hello Molly!" he greeted cheerfully, setting his tattered suitcase on the kitchen table and going over to kiss his wife, who was busy charming all her food ingredients to organize themselves into a meal.

"Hi Arthur," Molly replied, sounding slightly surprised. "What's got you so happy today?"

"Well, something excellent happened at the ministry today."

"Really? What happened that was so great?"

"Where are the kids? I want Ron to hear this, too."

"They're both outside in the garden. Arthur, what happened?"

"You can wait just a moment." With a bit of a spring in his step, Arthur flounced to the door and called out, "Ron! Ginny! Would you guys come in here for a moment?"

The two came to the doorway quickly, and the first thing out of Ron's mouth was "It wasn't me, I swear."

Molly raised her eyebrow at him. Realizing he hadn't been in trouble for anything, Ron's cheeks flushed the same shade of red as his hair and he cringed, waiting for verbal whiplash from his mother, but Arthur didn't give Molly a chance.

"I have some excellent news for you guys." He announced.

"Really? What happened?" Ginny asked excitedly.

"Well, I'm sure you both remember Mrs. Umbridge, your High Inquisitor at Hogwarts this year?"

The mention of his former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Ron forgot his embarrassment. "How could we forget that evil old cow?"

"Ron!" Molly snapped.

"Well, it's true," Ron mumbled, in defense of his statement.

"What about her, Dad?" Ginny asked, ignoring her brother.

"Well, she went on trial today for what she did at Hogwarts, and they convicted her with full penalty." A small cheer went up, but Arthur cut it off with the rest of the story. "And you would never guess what they did for punishment."

Ron and Ginny held their breath, waiting for the moment of payback. Even Molly was curious. "What did they do, Arthur?" she asked.

"They wiped her memory, renamed her Mary Sue Robinson and sent her off to be a Muggle!" he answered, finishing with an expectant flourish.

He wasn't disappointed.

"Alright!" Ginny cried, clapping her hands gleefully.

"Oh man, I wish I could have been there to see that ugly frog's face when they told her—"

"Ron!" Molly snapped again, but even she had a smile on her face at the thought of the tyrannical teacher responding to the name of Mary Sue.

"She is, mum! Or at least, she was." Ron laughed at the revelation. "I have to tell Harry and Hermione! Mum, can I use Errol?"

"Go ahead, dear. But I'm sure it'll be in the Daily Prophet tomorrow—" Ron didn't even hear the end of her sentence. He was already halfway up the stairs.

Ginny was still grinning from ear to ear. _What goes around, comes around,_ she thought, laughing. _And boy did it come around for Dolores Umbridge._

--

"Well?" Minuet asked plaintively, watching Asha's still fingers, suppressing her giggles. "What are you going to do to my cousin's killer?"

"Give me a minute," Asha answered, staring blankly at the screen. "Inspiration will come."

A second later, it did.

Asha cracked a huge grin and allowed herself a sadistic grin.

Her fingers started moving.

"What's your idea?" Minuet begged to know.

"Wait and see." Asha replied, not looking away from the computer.

Minuet pouted, but she knew she wasn't going to get any information out of Asha. With an overly dramatic sigh, she fell back into a rolling office chair and watched as Asha's text scrolled across the screen.

--

AN: So that's my filler chapter. Sorry to leave you guys so high and dry. This is all the water I can supply (hey!! A poem!!). Go ahead and send howlers to Yilantri. She richly deserves them. Get writing, damn you!!


End file.
